


New Beginnings

by Caitybug



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kisses, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Set in carry on, Softness, but also... probably not haha, canon level angst, kind of, new years eve kisses, unrealistic portrayal of Simon's Mental State so soon after christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/pseuds/Caitybug
Summary: It's the first New Years Eve after the Christmas that changed everything.After Simon Snow and Baz kissed.After they defeated the humdrum.After the Mage's death.But, as many of us do, it's time to take the New Year as an opportunity to begin anew.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57
Collections: Secret Snowflake 2020





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knitbelove (ladymac111)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/gifts).



> Thanks so much to [Liz](tumblr.com/blog/foolofabookwyrm), [Birdy](tumblr.com/blog/snowverylost), and [Seb](tumblr.com/blog/pipsqueakparker) for looking this over!
> 
> This is for [Knitbelove](tumblr.com/blog/knitbelove) as part of our server's exchange. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote for you!

Baz

I’m not sure how to navigate this.

It’s been 6 days since… well… _everything._

Since the Mage killed Ebb. 

Since Simon lost his magic. (Gave it up- technically.)

(Bloody fucking hero.)

Since we… well… _kissed._ (For the first time, that is. We’ve kissed many times since.)

(That time was most notable, however. It was life-saving, completely surprising, and _actually_ real.) 

Simon Snow is my _boyfriend_. (Terrible at that, but I’ve been flying so high since Christmas that I’ve yet to notice the terrible part.)

(It’s not as if _I_ know how to be one.)

(I _think_ I’m doing all right.)

So far, being Simon Snow’s boyfriend has meant rescuing him from the Mage, comforting him, and trying to help him recover. 

(Oh, and helping him defeat the Humdrum. Can’t forget that bit.)

It’s nice, actually being able to help him through this. Not having to hide behind sneers and insults, trying my hardest to hide my feelings.

I don’t have to do that anymore, do I? It’s odd, but _nice._

Today is New Year’s Eve. A day when we can leave things in the past, hope for better things in the year ahead. 

I do hope for all that can be. 

It’s my final semester at Watford. (Bunce isn’t coming back. So top of the class will be cleared for me.) Simon Snow is my boyfriend. The Mage is gone. 

We solved what happened to my mother.

(My heart pangs slightly at that thought.)

Selfishly I wish…

_I wish there were a reason for her to come back._

I’ve missed her so much. And I missed her coming. I missed the visiting. 

I shake my head and turn off the car, finally arriving at the Bunce’s house. 

After we separated Christmas Day, Penelope took Simon to her family’s home, and I went home to my own. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about Simon.

About what had happened. 

He stayed close to me, holding onto my arm as if I was the only thing keeping him afloat. 

(I think I might’ve been.)

I brought him tea, tried to make him eat, and talked softly in his ear until we were forced to separate. 

(I don’t think he wanted me to leave either. Which was new. I’m not entirely used to him wanting me to stay.)

I’ve since visited as much as I can. It’s frankly a testament of my love for Simon that I brave the Bunce household. 

(They could run a well-staffed inn with the number of children in that family.)

I unbuckle and stare at the door. 

I can’t help but have expectations in my head.

Hope.

(Fear.)

_Excitement._

While we’ve nothing grand planned, it’s still New Year’s Eve with my boyfriend.

It’ll be our first major holiday together.

(I’m not counting Christmas. We’ll get a redo next year- I’m determined.)

I step out of the car, grabbing a bag I had put together as a surprise to Snow, and walk towards the front steps of the house. 

When I knock, Penelope answers.

(I’d be disappointed, but I didn’t expect Simon to answer.) (He never does.)

She smiles delightedly and pulls me in, slamming the door shut behind me. 

The house feels… _quiet._

(It’s unusual.)

That is, until I hear a clatter in the kitchen.

“Oh dear,” Bunce mutters under her breath.

A moment of silence.

I open my mouth to ask, but the answer comes before I can string my thoughts into a coherent sentence. 

“Penny!” I hear from the kitchen.

I freeze.

_Simon._

I turn to Bunce, both my eyebrows receding into my hairline. She gives a feeble smile before walking into the kitchen.

I stand, eyes transfixed on the door as it swings behind her.

_Simon Snow is in the kitchen._

I hear him talking to her about biscuits, scones, and… a cake?

(Who’s letting that poor man near an oven?)

I’m nearly too afraid to walk through the door. Fearful that whatever has possessed him to get out of the stuffy room he’s been residing in will leave his soul when I show up. 

Penelope opens the door a crack, giving me an odd glance.

“Well, do come in now,” she insists. “No point in becoming part of the decoration.”

I give her a look. A question.

_How long will this last?_

She gives a soft exhale, a smile.

_Just enjoy it, please Basil._

She’s right. I know she is. 

It’s been so long since he’s done _anything._

I step forward, leaving my bag on a nearby table, and walk into the kitchen. My eyes are immediately assaulted by the scene in front of me. The counters are splashed with flour, there’s batter on the ceiling, but Simon Snow radiates so much joy that I don’t find myself minding.

(Does help it’s not my kitchen, mind you.)

He looks up and beams at me.

“Baz!” 

It’s filled with so much joy, so much heart, that I could swoon.

I think I hear Penelope _tsk_ nearby.

“What storm blew through here?” I ask, stepping closer.

He tilts up on his toes and kisses my cheek. I lean into it, letting myself savour the moment. 

(I’ll savour every kiss I get from him. For as long as I’m able to.)

“Just trying to make treats for the new year!” He says gleefully.

I look around and see a pan of burnt scones on the stovetop. He must see where my eyes have moved because he turns to look at them as well.

“Ah, well,” he stammers, putting the wooden spoon he was using to manhandle the batter to the side. “Not everything comes out perfectly.” He shrugs, picking up the pan and throwing the scones into the bin. “I’m determined to make these _perfect._ ”

He moves back to the wooden spoon and plastic bowl he was banging about. When I look over it, wrapping my arms around his waist and putting my head on his shoulder, I’m confused.

“Aren’t scones supposed to be more…” 

“He won’t listen to reason, Basil.” Penny grabs a fresh pan and places it next to the bowl. “This is his _last_ trial.” She looks at Simon pointedly. 

Simon huffs. “Batter is _supposed_ to look like this.”

“Not for scones! You’ve got the makings of a cake, perhaps, but no scone will be produced from _that_ concoction.”

I keep my mouth closed, letting Penelope fight this battle. His batter is runny and far too liquidy to make anything other than a cake or cupcake. 

(Luckily, I know something he doesn’t.)

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” I whisper in his ear. He turns his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. 

(I want to kiss it off of him.)

(I do.)

“Merlin,” Penelope groans, immediately exiting the room. 

“I’ve got a bag filled with sour cherry scones,” I mutter, kissing his jaw. “Cook Prichard sends her best.”

The wooden spoon falls, batter landing heavily on the ground beside us, and he turns to face me.

“Really?”

“Yes, you buffoon,” I laugh, adjusting my hands to our new position. (I try not to think of the things I could do to him against this counter.)(We’re not there yet.)(Both- not just him. It’s me too.)(Doesn’t mean I can’t _imagine_ , however.) “Now will you give up on this fight to make scones that are clearly not coming out right?”

He nods, wrapping his arms around my neck, kissing me.

\---

We spend hours talking, eating, watching various films Simon demands we see. 

It’s completely and utterly _normal._

(I love it.)

It’s even better that I don’t have to fight for space to sit. 

(The Bunce’s are out for the night. Planning to be back in the morning.)

Simon is laying with his head in my lap, smiling up at me, and I can’t have imagined this in my wildest dreams.

Simon Snow, with me, _smiling._

It’s absolutely captivating. I can’t help but smile back- it’s infectious. 

Tonight has been the most alive I’ve seen him since what happened. He’s laughing loudly, talking, eating without prompt-

My mind immediately wanders into questioning territory.

_How did we get here?_

_Where is the key that will help me unlock this feeling? These moments, with you?_

I can’t let myself focus on that. I have to let myself enjoy this. 

The feeling of Simon being happy.

Healthy.

_Not under immediate threat._

He leans up to kiss me. Soft and slow, like we have all the time in the world.

(I think, for a moment, that we _do_.)

There’s no big bad out to kill us or war to be fought. (We aren’t out to kill _each other_.)

We get to just have this.

Whatever we are, whatever we _will_ be. 

I deepen the kiss, pulling him closer and into my arms. 

Penelope groans and I hear the clatter of plates from the table in front of us. 

I look to see her walking to the kitchen in a huff. 

Snow sits up, leaning into my ear. “Let’s go outside, yeah?” He whispers. 

I nod, standing after he does, letting him lead me into the cold. 

The snow beneath our feet crunches as we step further from the doorstep. The lights fade around us and stop making the world so easy to see. (For him, that is. I can see perfectly fine.)

“Snow-” I start, wondering why we are walking farther and farther away from the perfectly warm home we _could_ be in. 

“One second,” he says. He looks determined. He keeps looking up at the sky. 

It’s cloudy, but not _too_ cloudy. 

I can still see the moon and the stars. 

He stops.

The cold is biting at my nose, my ears, my hands.

But he grabs my hands and pulls me close. His head rests against my own.

And suddenly, I feel warm. 

(He’s not the nuclear power generator he once was. But he’s still warm.) 

_Still absolutely lovely._

“What time is it?” He asks.

I look at my watch. 

“Five till. Why-”

He cuts me off with a kiss.

I put my hand behind his neck, enjoying his lips moving against mine. They taste like cherries and pastry, a bit of butter, and _him._

His taste, even when covered by food and baked goods is always there. It’s brown butter and electricity, warm and heady. 

I get drunk off it.

(I worried, for a moment, if it was the vampire in me that felt that way.)

I since realized it wasn’t.

It’s just me. _Him._

He pulls back, hand against my face. I chase his lips, but he moves his thumb to my mouth to stop me. 

“Baz,” he whispers. I open my eyes.

Even in the dark, his blue eyes shine. I swear I can see the entire night sky in them. 

I lick my lips, “yes, Snow?”

“I-” he pauses. “Thank you.”

I freeze.

He coughs. 

“For being here for-” he clears his throat. (He was never good with his words.) “I know that it’s been a lot-” he huffs. 

It’s painful to watch.

But this is the most he’s talked in weeks. 

I don’t want it to end.

I used to tease him endlessly for his stammering. For blundering over each and every word.

But then, after Christmas, when he wasn’t talking, I would have done _anything_ to make him talk again. 

“I guess what I’m just really trying to say is….” he sighs. “Thank you. For everything.”

His eyes look at a spot in the sky beyond me. I turn to follow them.

_The moon._

“You said your mum hung the moon,” he whispers. “And you once took me to the stars.” 

I look back.

(I feel my chest growing warmer, looking into his eyes.)

“It’s the New Year, and I want it to be a new start and all.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I’ve got a therapy appointment scheduled for Tuesday. Penelope says it’ll help.”

I shift to kiss his nose. “That sounds great, Simon,” I say, softly. 

He smiles. 

“New start,” he says. “With you too.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Without the fighting or trying to kill each other,” he grabs my wrist to check my watch. “And I want to start this year off right.”

I see the time.

_11:59._

He leans up and kisses me once more. Long and slow, and never-ending.

I hear cheers from down the road, firecrackers in the distance, all signifying the end.

No…

_The beginning._

Happy New Year, Simon Snow.

_This is where it can start to get good._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! feel free to check me out on [Tumblr!](tumblr.com/blog/caitybuglove23)


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